


2nd Date

by MikeWritesThings



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Bloodhound's Face (Apex Legends), Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Movie Night, Other, just tagging that cuz i know some ppl dont like bh face headcanons :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23045947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikeWritesThings/pseuds/MikeWritesThings
Summary: Bloodhound lets Elliott choose what they should do on their second date, and he tries. He really does.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 7
Kudos: 66





	2nd Date

Bloodhound wasn’t a very public person. That wasn’t to say they couldn’t enjoy public outings or did terribly in public places, but they just seemed much more collected and at home during private meet-ups or in remote, outdoor locations.

Elliott had let them pick the first date, and Bloodhound had taken him hiking. It had been fun, even if he had no idea what the hell he was doing, and had never had so many bugbites in his life ever. The two had slept in a tent together that leaked rainwater, ate game that Bloodhound had hunted themself, and nearly died due to a falling rock. Extremely romantic, and a successful first date.

Elliott was in charge of the second date.

Knowing that they didn’t care for public spaces, his options were limited. He was a very traditional wine-and-dine kinda guy--you couldn’t go wrong with fancy restaurant dates, even if he had to save up two whole paychecks in order to afford them. And while Bloodhound’s tastes would be much easier on his wallet, they were much harder on his brain as he tried to think up something good.

He was out shopping for porkchop stuff when he thought of it--he had wheeled his cart around the long way to avoid a bunch of Apex merch, where Octane and Wraith’s merchandise would most certainly be sold out while his sat on the shelf to rot, when he passed by a bargain bin full of old DVDs. Pausing, he picked one up, taking in the shoddy artwork on the cover and the poorly translated title. He had no idea what a movie called DRAGON FIGHT MUMMY PT III: RETURN TO GRIDIRON would be about, but it looked hilarious.

Elliott selected a few more titles, all labeled horror or thriller, before depositing them in his cart. Right. So that was decided--a movie date!

He had a few classic ones at home, too--the likes of  _ Get Out _ and _ The Ring _ , hundreds of years old but still pretty good. He wished he had some of the streamables, those movies that were released exclusively on stream between the years 2100 and 2400 when streaming was all the craze, but these DVDs were good enough, he supposed.

Friday’s game went pretty well--he and Bloodhound were on opposite teams, but played a fun game of cat-and-mouse for about half of the runtime. Bloodhound using their tracking skills to chase him even while he was cloaked always gave him a sort of thrill he thought Octane would enjoy, and it helped him put on a good show for the people of the Frontier. He, Wraith, and their third random died in fourth place, while Bloodhound’s team managed to climb to top two. They would’ve won had it not been for the fact that one of the final rings ended in an open area, and Bangalore rained down destruction upon them in the form of an airstrike.

The aftermath of the game was chaotic, as usual, but Elliott managed to send a wink Bloodhound’s way and a cheesy little smile. They had cocked their head to the side before giving him a thumbs-up in response, letting him know that they remembered that the two of them had a date later on.

Elliott cleaned up that night, making sure his pork chops were set in the oven to go off about five minutes after Bloodhound said they would arrive. He showered quickly, washing all the grime off his body and all the blood out of his hair, and dressed in a clean button-up he had ironed the night previously. His mother would be proud of him.

At seven o’clock on the dot, a sharp knock echoed throughout his apartment. Bloodhound was extremely punctual to things; he had never once seen them too early or too late. They didn’t arrive beforehand and loiter until it was time for the event--they always arrived at the exact moment it started. He wondered how they always did it, if they just had impeccable timing, or if the Allfather granted them magical punctuality powers.

Throwing open his door, he had a flirty pick-up line on the tip of his tongue to greet them with, but he paused when he got a good look at their face.

He had seen them without their mask before, but usually they wore it all the way up until they were alone with Elliott. Today, though, they seemed to have forgone it, perhaps because of the care they had put into their hair tonight. Their dreads were styled impeccably, swept to the side in a manner that was somehow both careless and careful. Their leather jacket looked brand-spanking-new, which it might be, because Bloodhound must be rolling in cash with all the games they’d won. And he was pretty sure they were wearing gold eyeliner.

“God, you look...” His brain stumbled over trying to decide which word to use,  _ ‘handsome’ _ or  _ ‘pretty’ _ , and he instead said, “Really sexy?”

“Thanks,” they responded somewhat dryly.

Elliott stepped back to let them into his apartment, taking note of their jeans and boots with an appreciative hum. God they were super fucking hot--and he’d be sitting next to them for the next two hours at the very least!  _ You did good, Elliott. You did good. _

Bloodhound sat themselves on Elliott’s couch, which he had made an effort of cleaning the night previously. They looked somewhat more settled in than they normally did, thanks to their casual outfit, but there was always something off about seeing them in modern spaces like this, especially after having spent the weekend camping with them and seeing the inside of their room.

Elliott wondered what it would be like if the two of them lived together. What would their shared living space look like? A mixture of animal hides and paintings on the wall? A hammock and a bed in the same room? Pork chops but made with freshly caught meat?

And speaking of pork chops, there went the timer.

The two of them ate dinner together while chatting quietly, which Elliott appreciated a lot. ‘Hound was a good listener and a good speaker, even if they didn’t talk very often. He could listen to them go on all day whenever they got into things that interested them personally.

“There is a special art to fishing,” they were saying, peeling meat off the bone with their teeth and chewing quietly. “A sort of mastery.”

“Yeah. Fishing,” Elliott said with a nod of his head, like he understood. “Casting lines and...whatever else it is fishers do.”

“No, I do not use lines.” Bloodhound’s nose snubbed the slightest bit, a rare show of disdain, for their face usually remained passive and neutral. “The best way to fish is with your bare hands. Knee deep in a river, relying on the Allfather to guide the fish into your vicinity so you can catch one. It requires patience and faith.”

God, Bloodhound talking about catching fish with nothing but their bare hands and faith in Nordic gods was hot. Elliott would like to see it one day.

They finished eating and made their way to the couch, but they didn’t start a movie right away. Elliott leaned comfortably into the cushions, eyes focused on Bloodhound, who was off on a tangent once again, describing the types of things Artur would bring them as a gift. He wanted to put his arm around them, initiate some sort of contact, but he knew they liked their space, so he instead fidgeted with his hands in his lap, smiling at them as they kept talking.

Suddenly, they stopped, eyes staring into the distance, before their face straightened out into its usual passive neutrality and they bowed their head towards him.

“I apologize, I have been talking for far too long. I understand you had other plans for tonight.”

“No, it’s fine!” Elliott yelped way too loudly, but they didn’t flinch. “I could listen to you all day, I promise. There’s nothing wrong with talkin’ about things you like, you know?”

They stared at him, and he admired the color of their eyes--brown, almost red in certain lighting--before they smiled at him, a slight curl to the corners of their scarred lips that made his heart flutter just a bit. 

He felt like a teenager again when he finally chose a movie for them to watch together, settling back down on the couch beside Bloodhound with excitement. He liked them a whole lot, he really did, and so far, this evening was going along perfectly. Too perfect.

So of course, that had to all go downhill.

Elliott had never seen any of the movies he had chosen, so he had assumed they were all old, cheesy horror films that would be good for a laugh. He hadn’t been expecting for them to actually be, like, suspenseful. Or scary. They reached the fifteen minute mark with nothing too significant happening--or so he thought. He had just opened his mouth to comment on how cheap the film looked when the first jumpscare happened, and he let out a loud, high-pitched squeak.

Pressing himself against his couch, Elliott swallowed nervously, putting on a nervous smile as Bloodhound stared at him, their eyebrows raised.

“Just startled me,” he said around a giggle that was way too high. “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

They accepted this explanation without much complaint, though he swore he saw them smirk a little out of the corner of his eye.

The rest of the film did not go better for Elliott: he squeaked, gasped, and jumped countless times. By the seventh jumpscare he was sweating bullets, gripping his knees as he watched the main characters scream and run around the haunted house. He wanted to cry when one of them unknowingly hid in a chest right next to the serial killer that had chased them there.

“We can watch a different movie,” Bloodhound suggested. They sounded almost amused.

“What? Why?” Elliott stammered out, still trying to appear as though he hadn’t spent most of the movie wanting to die. “I’m n-not scared at all. I love horror movies! They don’t scare me. Not when I’ve faced real s-scary shit in real life, you know?”

“Duly noted,” Bloodhound hummed.

By the tenth jumpscare, Elliott wished he had taken up Bloodhound’s suggestion of changing the movie when he had the chance. He would just look like a baby if he switched it now! He hated looking like a fool in front of them, knew his bumbling had gotten the both of them killed during games, that his stutter and his general everything was as unsuave as one could get, which was why he put forth a great amount of effort to appear...well, suave.

But now, shaking in his seat, he just looked like an idiot.

He was about to concede defeat, shake the hair out of his face and admit that he was fucking terrified, when an arm slung itself around his shoulders and he was pulled gently into Bloodhound’s side. Wide-eyed, he glanced over at them, but they were laser-focused on the movie, unblinking.

It didn’t make it less scary, but he could at least bear to watch it now. God they were so fucking buff. Maybe this was a good idea, after all.

The rest of the movie passed with minimal squeaks made by Elliott, who felt comforted by the arm wrapped around him, solid and unmoving. Bloodhound just had such a calming presence that it started to rub off on him, and by the time the credits rolled around, he laughed and said,

“That wasn’t so bad, huh?”

“You cried,” Bloodhound pointed out, looking him directly in the eye and making his cheeks flush, but then they smiled at him at him, and he didn’t mind. “I do not care for horror movies, but I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Elliott’s mouth dropped open. “So uh. What kinda movies do  _ you _ like?”

“Nature documentaries.” They paused. “And romcoms.”

God why didn’t he pick a romcom.  _ Why!!! Why!!!!! Why did you torture yourself like that for two hours! _

Feeling thoroughly embarrassed and mortified that he had made the both of them watch a horror movie when neither liked them, Elliott scrambled to think of something else to do to make up for it and make the night end on a good note. He remembered the fact that he had an unopened container of ice cream in his freezer, and hoped to god that they weren’t like, lactose intolerant or something.

“I have some cookies-’nd-cream if you want any?” He offered with a smile, hoping to the motherfucking Allfather that they said yes.

“Incidentally, my favorite ice cream flavor,” they responded.

_ Yes! Good job, Elliott! _

Elliott got out two bowls and spooned chunks of ice cream into them, giving Bloodhound a bit more than him--not so much that it was obvious, but still definitely more than him. He smiled at them from where they watched him from the counter, and they nodded back, taking in his every move with their gold-lined eyes. Sliding them their bowl, Elliott put the ice cream up before sitting on the bar stool next to them, eyes crinkled up in a smile as the two ate.

“This was nice, thanks for coming,” Elliott said, licking some ice cream off his spoon. Bloodhound was the type of person who bit into their ice cream, but hey, not everybody was perfect. “I know this kind of. _ Thing. _ Isn’t really your thing. But next time, you can teach me how to fish, or whatever.”

“I quite enjoy spending time with you,” Bloodhound said coolly, and he almost choked on a solid chunk of cookie. “Regardless of whatever we do.”

“That’s--that’s n-nice,” Elliott stuttered out, massaging his throat with his free hand. “Me too, I enjoy it too, even if we are doing outdoorsy stuff and I get bugs in my hair, I don’t mind. I think you’re. Uh. Pretty neat.”

_ ‘Pretty neat’ _ ? He wanted to die.

Bloodhound gave a laugh: a short, genuine thing that sounded like music to his ears.

“And I, you.” They smiled at him, and he felt his heart flutter like a schoolgirl.

Elliott bade Bloodhound goodbye half an hour later, hand on the door while they bowed to him delicately. Before they had started dating, they would give him a two-fingered salute, but he wondered if this change of greetings and goodbyes meant anything. He was about to ask when they stepped forward and kissed him right on the mouth.

It was a very quick thing, a blink-and-you-miss-it kinda ordeal, but it left Elliott floored, eyes wide and entire body going numb.

“ _Sjáumst á morgun,_ ” they said, and though they turned their back to him, he swore he heard a lilt to their voice, a smile, a laugh.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered out, waving pathetically as he watched them go. “Bye.”

A kiss on the lips...now _that_ certainly meant something.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was c*mmissioned by someone on twitter ! im censoring that word so ao3 doesn't nerf me and take thjis fic down wjfnkjfnkf
> 
> I lob miragehound but I always feel so unsure when writing them …….but I hope this was pleasant enough !!
> 
> tl:
> 
> sjáumst á morgun--see you tomorrow


End file.
